(The Loud House! and/or other related titles are rightfully owned by Nickelodeon)
(This is a work of fanfiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information, and material of any kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.)
Chapter Four:
The Good Samaritan
Lincoln Loud took in a deep breath of fresh air and let out an equally deep sigh as he casually walked down the street, the straps of his backpack hanging from behind his shoulders. The cozy afternoon sun shined down from the blue cloudless sky above, spilling its warmth down across the neighborhood and on the bare skin of Lincoln's face. As he continued on down the block that he was walking in, he gazed his blue eyes around at his environment.
This wasn't the usual route that he always took when he strolled home from school, but today he felt just a little bit daring and wanted to try something a little different for a small change. But that wasn't the only reason though. Something in the back of his mind told him to go this way. He could not explain why, but it just did. Like, a little voice within his head was telling him that it was somehow very important to go this way.
Still though, despite doing what the voice told him to do, it did very little to keep himself from having to remember his grounding the other couple days. Being grounded was something no kid his age ever enjoyed; to have some of your privileges taken away, no TV, no games, no laptop, couldn't have your friends over, nothing.
Just having to stay there in your room, sitting or lying down on your bed, and being forced to think about what you've done. Having to remember that put a little bit of a damper on his mood. But he lit up a little bit when he remembered that sometimes being grounded had a perk or two, like being alone with your own thoughts and listening to some music.
Lincoln could have done fine with the latter, if his mom hadn't taken his phone away as part of his grounding, where most, if not all, of his music was downloaded. He supposed that it was only to help make sure that he heard her if she called his name. It did not help that he started to think that his best friend Clyde would get seriously worried if he did not message him back later.
Thankfully, Lincoln told him everything that had happened, so now he knew just incase he did not pick up immediately.
Lincoln looked down at his wristwatch. It was almost less than a minute of turning 4 o'clock. Maybe he should not have taken this little detour home... and probably should not have made that little pitstop over at Flip's Food & Fuel as well. If he did not hurry on home soon, his folks would either get very worried or very upset. Or possibly worried and then upset. He was about to reach into his pocket for his phone, but then he remembered he didn't have it with him in the first place.
Lincoln let out a small but still frustrated sigh.
Before he could decide that maybe he could make a jog for it and be home on time, a distant yet audible sound was heard, which had greatly caught his attention. He did not know what it was, but it sounded to him like it was coming from a small ways ahead of him. As Lincoln made his way closer to the source of the noise, it began to sound a bit clearer.
He furrowed his brows, perturbed. That was strange. He could have sworn that it sounded like someone was crying. And it was coming from that alleyway over there. With that, Lincoln cautiously maneuvered on over to the entrance way of the alley. He peeked around the corner, and what he saw right before him made his blood run cold.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes widened and his mouth hung almost agape.
Sitting down, resting up against the wall right next to a green dumpster was a young boy who appeared to be around the same age as Lincoln. The boy had short blond hair, and his right eye was black and swollen. All his clothes were missing, leaving him with nothing but his socks and underwear. A few discolored bruises and scrapes were just about all over his body, and a few wet lines of blood exuded from his bloody lip and nose.
Lincoln nervously walked up to the boy and looked closely at him for any signs of movement, but remained watchful, very much unsure if this kid was either alive or dead. His doubts were then thrown out the window when he noticed that his chest was lightly inflating and then deflating.
"He's breathing," Lincoln murmured in both surprise as well as relief. "He's still alive." The boy lightly flinched when Lincoln gently nudged him on his shoulders. He let out a small groan as he struggled to turn his head and eyed him for a moment.
"Are you alright, kid?" Lincoln said concernedly. "What happened to you?"
"H-Help me..." the boy wheezed pleadingly in a hoarse voice. "P-Please..., h-help me..." Lincoln nodded his head, a serious expression now taking shape on his face, and placed a comforting hand on his bare yet bruised shoulder.
"No problem," he stated. "I think I have just the thing." He then pulled out his backpack from behind, set it aside, and he unzipped it wide open.
"Please, let me still have it," Lincoln muttered as he rummaged through his backpack.
A hopeful smile appeared on his face as he pulled out in his hands a large, white-colored tin box with a red cross decorated on the detachable lid. A lucky break. He never once thought that he would ever see the day where he would actually use this thing, which had been given to him by Clyde about little over a week ago. Lincoln held it closely to his chest.
"Thanks, Clyde," he muttered, after sighing in relief. "I owe you big time for this one." The white-haired boy unlatched the lid of the medical kit and examined all of the contents inside. Once he was done, he quickly examined the instructions that was taped to the inside of the lid.
Once after that was finished, he drew out a pair of rubber gloves and put them on over his hands. He carefully looked around in the kit for one specific item until he found exactly what he was looking for; a small package of anti-bacterial disinfectant wipes. He opened the package and pulled out only two wipes, and then he examined a few of the boy's cuts.
"What's your name, dude?" Lincoln asked slowly, making sure that the kid had heard him. "Can you tell me your name?"
"C-Conner..." he answered just above a whisper. "C-Conner P-Pingrey..."
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. Pingrey? No... Could it be? There was only one person he knew of with a last name such as that, and that was his older sister's former rival turned best friend, Carol Pingrey. This all sounded so strange to him. He never even once knew that Carol had other family members aside from her father, let alone the possibly of having a younger brother. With this in thought, Lincoln took in a steady breath.
"Alright, Conner," he said. "I'm going to give you some disinfectant wipes. They might sting a bit for a minute, but I promise, they will help in cleaning those scrapes." With that, Lincoln gently moved the wipes against Conner's bare skin, rubbing them on some of the scrapes and little cuts around his shoulders and torso. Conner flinched couple times from the tingling pain from the iodine that now covered his wounds.
Lincoln opened the lid of the big green dumpster and tossed the used, red-stained wipes inside, and he pulled out a fresh small batch from the package and cleaned up more of the rest of Conner's wounds. He even cleaned off some of the blood that dripped from his nose as well as some that stained his chin. After that was done, Lincoln through the wipes into the green dumpster.
He then noticed a terribly bleeding cut on the side of Conner's temple. Quickly, he grabbed one last wipe and cleaned off the blood until there was only a red crookedly vertical line. Conner flinched from the minimal stinging sensation from the wipe. Lincoln then searched through the first aid kit and pulled out a large ball of cotton, a metal tube of sanitizing ointment, and a roll of bandage wraps.
He pulled out a decent strip of the bandage and tore if off from the roll. He opened the metal tube and squeezed out a specific amount of the near translucent ointment onto the cotton ball. Lincoln gently dabbed the cotton ball onto the bloody cut and then pressed the ball against it to try and keep any more blood from escaping. Holding it there for a moment, he grabbed the bandage and carefully wrapped it around Conner's head and over the large cotton ball, thus holding it firmly in place.
Once after that was finished, Lincoln took a moment to examine Conner's sorry state. He shook his head pitiably. Whoever was responsible for this mess surely did quite the number on him. Just who in the world would do such a horrible thing? And why? He was only a little kid, no older than himself. Seeing a young boy like Conner all broken up like this was enough to tug at anybody's heartstrings. Nobody should ever have to go through this, especially a child.
Conner let out a whimpering sob, sucking in his bottom lip, fresh tears pouring down his face. Lincoln looked at him worriedly. He placed a calming hand on his shoulder again.
"Hey, hey," he softly reassured. "It's okay, dude. You're going to be alright, I promise." Conner sniffed and then turned his good eye towards him.
"M-My ankle... I-It hurts..." he croaked out in-between snivels, pointing at his right foot. Lincoln furrowed his brows worriedly. He moved over to Conner's feet, and he easily removed the boy's sock until his foot was now bare. He saw some discolored bruises around the ankle and took note of the swollen area that had grown to be less than half the side of a tennis ball.
Lincoln quickly went for his backpack, rummaging through until he found what he was looking for. Held in his hand was a can of instant pain relief cold spray. He gave the can a good shake and he sprayed it nice and evenly over the swollen area on Conner's ankle. A relieving sensation seemed to wash over Conner, as the intense cooling from the spray seemed to numb out the pain very nicely.
"Is there anything else?" Lincoln asked after putting away the can. Conner lightly inclined his head into a nod.
"M-My hand..." Conner moaned. "They b-broke my h-hand..."
Lincoln looked down and noticed a shoe's heel print marked on the top of Conner's hand. Seeing this made Lincoln cringe a bit. Yikes. He went back to the medical kit and pulled out a tube of mentholated pain relief lotion. He squeezed out a liberal amount of the lotion onto the left palm of his rubber-gloved hand and he rubbed it gently into the skin of Conner's hand.
Conner winced a bit from the contact, but relaxed once after Lincoln was done and the ice-cold sensation spread throughout his hand. Lincoln grabbed the bandage roll and he pulled and tore off another strip. He then delicately wrapped it around Conner's hand, and he tightened it oh so slightly. After everything was done, Lincoln pulled off the rubber gloves and threw them away into the dumpster.
After putting the med kit back away into his backpack, he drew an unopened bottle of water out, and unscrewed the small cap off. Lincoln placed the bottle aside for a moment, and with as much care as he could give, repositioned Conner over to him and he gently laid the rest of him down to the floor, while he held Conner's head up in his other hand, almost as if he were cradling him like an infant.
"Here," Lincoln said, carefully tilting the bottled water close to Conner's lips. "Drink this, but take it nice and slow." Conner lightly opened his mouth, and he gradually downed the water in small mouthfuls, the cool and refreshing feeling it now brought pouring inside of his gullet, while Lincoln continued to hold it.
Eventually, Lincoln tapped the back of Conner's head with his index finger, signaling him to stop. Conner did as he was told so as the white-haired boy could pull the bottle away, allowing the injured child to catch his breath for a moment or two. Conner had drunk down about a quarter more than one-half of the plastic bottle.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Lincoln asked, setting the bottled water aside. "Who did this to you?"
"T-Three..." Conner breathed out. "T-Three of them... T-They... t-took everything... B-Beat me... M-Might... c-come back." Lincoln nodded his head in agreement.
He knew Conner was right. Whoever did this to him might come back at any time, at any given moment. Which meant that Lincoln had got to get him out of here as soon as possible and take him somewhere safe. He would gladly take him to the hospital straight away, but that was a very long distance from where they were. So right now, the closest place Lincoln could think of at the top of his head was his house.
Lincoln grumbled under his breath as he gazed out at the surrounding block. If the circumstances were just a little bit different, if he still had his cellphone with him in his pocket, he would call for an ambulance in a heartbeat. So very little options, so very little time. Lincoln let out a steady sigh, as he had finally made up his mind. He placed another gentle hand on Conner's shoulder.
"Alright, Conner," Lincoln began, "I want you to listen to me very carefully. Right now, there's nobody else around to drive us to the hospital, so the only choice we have is to walk over to my house. It's about several blocks northeast from here. I'd call an ambulance, but I don't have my phone with me. So basically, this means... I'm gonna have to help carry you all the way there, alright?"
Conner barely nodded his head, completely understanding everything that had just been told to him. With that, Lincoln more than delicately lifted the boy up onto his one good foot and he positioned Conner's left arm around his shoulders, and Lincoln placed his arm to the other side of Conner's waist to help hold him firmly up.
"Alright," Lincoln added, "I'm gonna need you to help lift your own weight for this. I can't do this if you're just gonna hang limply. Think you can do that for me, bud?"
"I-I'll try..." Conner said, after barely nodding his head again in understanding. Lincoln placed a calming hand on Conner's bare chest.
"Don't worry," he reassured. "I promise, you're going to be okay." And so, Lincoln continued to hold Conner up as the two of them carefully walked, or limp in Conner's case, down the concrete sidewalk, homeward bound...
Mom and Dad are really going to love this...
The Loud Residence, 1216 Franklin Avenue.
4:25 P.M.
Lynn Loud Sr. was within the location of the kitchen, stirring a large pot of some type of stew-like substance that gently boiled on top of the stove. He stirred it around with long wooden spoon, mixing the contents inside and allowing the flavors to flow around along with each other. Lynn Sr. took a good whiff, the aroma filling the nostrils of his pointed nose. He smiled enthusiastically.
Tonight, the family was going to have Cajun for dinner. He scooped up a specific amount of the shrimp and sausage gumbo into the spoon and drew it to his lips, slurping a little bit of the warm food inside. After about a second or two of tasting it, he stopped and thought for a moment. Hmmm... Needs a little more Creole seasoning... And maybe also a few dabs of TapatÃo sauce.
He went over to the cupboards and opened them up, revealing all the different containers of spices and seasonings inside. As he began to rummage through the cupboard for the appropriate seasoning for his gumbo, a young woman's voice was heard.
"Hey, dad," Mr. Loud turned around to see his eighteen-year-old daughter, Lori Loud, standing just outside from the doorway that led out to the dining room. He flashed her a kind smile.
"What can I help you with, sweetheart?" he asked.
"Do you have any idea where Lincoln is?" she wondered. "I tried asking everybody else around the house, but they haven't seen him yet either." The Loud patriarch paused for a second and he frowned a little bit. He then rubbed his chin in thought. He turned over to the clock that hung above the kitchen sink and was a little surprised to see the time.
"Huh... You know, now that you've brought that up," he said, "I actually haven't seen him all day yet. School ended at about half an hour ago, and he should have been home by now." Lori folded her arms across her chest, and she glowered a bit.
"Hmph, he's probably trying to find a way to cheat out of his grounding right now," she stated. Lynn Sr. gave his eldest daughter a look after returning to the stove with a container of Creole seasoning.
"Now, Lori," he said. "He knows better than to try something like that. Your mother and I had that talk with him, remember? If I know my own son, and I do, he could be trying to find a way to make up for what happened right now as we speak." Lori cringed when she remembered the event that took place just two days ago, the little escapade that led towards her little brother getting grounded in the first place.
"Ugh, as if we needed to be reminded of that!" Lola, the seven-year-old pageant queen suddenly called out from the living room. "I do not want to see another raccoon for as long as I live!"
"You're telling me, sis," added Lana, Lola's twin sister, and grease monkey. "And that's pretty ironic coming from somebody like me!"
"I hope nothing bad has happened to Linky," said a worried Leni, the second eldest sibling and ditsy fashionista, as she sat on the living room coach between her two sisters, brushing her light blond hair.
"Relax, dudes," Luna said, sitting to Leni's right, tinkering with her guitar strings. "I'm sure little bro will turn up eventually."
"Yeah," Lynn agreed, sitting on the left side of the couch, watching the sports channel on TV. "For all I know, Stinkoln probably stopped somewhere to get a quick snack or something. Either that or he took a long detour home." Their infant sister, Lily, lightly cooed in her fourteen-year-old sister's arms, resting her little head on the sports fanatic's shoulder.
"Well, he better hurry. It's gonna get dark pretty soon." said Luan, the fifteen-year-old comedian and prankster, who sat on the cushioned armchair next to the coach, writing down some of her best jokes on her notepad.
Rita Loud, the Loud family matriarch and Lynn Sr.'s wife, who was busy clearing out the dining room table and setting it up with plates and silverware, frowned a little bit. She sighed under her breath, and she started to feel a little worried, with an added dose of guilt thrown in there for good measure. Maybe it was a bad idea to take away his phone. If she had not taken away his only means of contact to her and the rest of the family, maybe they would all know where he was already.
I think I'll give it back to him once after he gets home, she thought. Her brows creased. But he will have to use it for emergencies only and to help with his homework.
In that instant, three loud knocks came at the front door. All heads immediately turned to the direction of the front door, and Luna smiled.
"See?" she said. "What did I tell ya?" But all forms of relief had been thrown out the window and was replaced with concern when they heard Lincoln's near frantic voice from the other side.
"Mom! Dad! Anybody!" his voice called out. "Open the door! Please! I need help!" The Louds looked at each other in confusion and worry and then back to the door. Rita's motherly instincts kicked in as she quickly moved around the dinner table and darted for the door.
"Lincoln, what's going on?" she said, as she opened the door... Only to come face-to-face with quite a sight that she and the rest of the family were not expecting to see at all. Rita let out a stunned and terrified gasp, as did the rest of the Loud siblings.
"Oh my word!" she cried. "Lincoln!"
Standing right at the doorway on the front porch was none other than Lincoln, but what they all saw standing closely next to him was what had strongly caught their attention. Held in Lincoln's arms and shoulders was a young blond-haired boy who appeared to be around the same age as him. But this kid was in a seriously bad shape, covered in bruises and scuffs as well as a swollen black eye and a swollen right ankle.
"O-M-Gosh!" Leni exclaimed, dropping her hairbrush and covering her mouth in shock.
"What's going on out there?" Lynn Sr. called out worriedly, approaching towards the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and he looked like he was about to have a heart attack, completely taken aback by what he was now seeing. "Holy fishpaste!"
"Guys! Help me!" said Lincoln anxiously. "This kid is badly hurt!"
"Here, give him to me!" Mrs. Loud ordered, kneeling down to her son, hands held out to him. Lincoln carefully maneuvered the boy over to his mother, allowing Rita to now carry him in her arms bridal style after she stood back up. The kid wincingly stirred a bit and a pain-filled groan escaped his lips, his head now relaxed against Rita's shoulder.
"Shhh, it's okay sweetie," she muttered soothingly to him, gently stroking his blond hair. "You're safe now." Rita then turned to her daughters and then commanded in an urgent yet calm tone.
"Leni! Luan! Go upstairs and get a blanket and pillow from the laundry cabinet!" The two Loud sisters nodded their heads after they both got up from the sofa, and they ran upstairs to the second floor of the house for the laundry cabinet. Rita then turned to face her husband.
Lynn Sr.'s face made a determined-looking expression and nodded his head now knowing exactly what to do next, before turning to face the rest of his daughters.
"Luna!" he commanded as calmly he could be. "Go upstairs to Lisa's room and tell her what's happened! The both of you bring down my old oxygen concentrator and mask! He looks like he might be having trouble breathing!" The sixteen-year-old rocker nodded obediently, and she headed upstairs to her little sister's room.
Lori helped in moving the coffee table away, allowing Rita to move on over and slowly lay the boy down on his back on the sofa. Lola and Lana stood on one side of the living room, holding each other closely, clearly afraid and concerned with what was happening in front of them.
Luan and Leni came back downstairs to the living room, blanket and pillow in hands, and then gave them to Rita. Mrs. Loud laid the blanket over the boy until his whole body was covered, while Lynn Sr. carefully lifted his head up to place the pillow underneath.
"Lynn!" Rita said to her daughter. "Hand Lily to me and go grab something cold from the freezer! An ice pack, a frozen bag of pees, something! Anything that can help treat his black eye!"
"You might also want to get a second one for his private area!" Lincoln suggested. "He told me that they kicked him there really hard!" Mr. Loud cringed when he heard that, his hands instinctively going down to guard his precious jewels. Lynn made a military solute, handed the little one-year-old toddler to her mother, and she darted passed the living room to the dining room and then into the kitchen.
As Luna and their five-year-old child prodigy of a sister, Lisa, came downstairs with the oxygen mask and concentrator, Lincoln stood by close to the front doorway, twiddling his fingers. The feeling of worry was written all over his face. Lori, Lana, and Lola turned to their brother's direction, and they pulled him aside for a moment near the dining room.
"Lincoln, what happened to him?" Lori asked him concernedly.
"Yeah, bro," Lana included. "Why does he look all beat up and stuff? And where did you find him?"
"I-I don't know what happened, girls," he explained. "He was already like this when I found him. I-I was still walking home from school when I heard very faint crying coming from a nearby alley. He was sitting right there up against the wall. At first, I wasn't sure if he was dead or not. When I got closer, I saw that he was still breathing. All I had to help him with was the med kit Clyde gave me a week ago. I never once thought that I would actually have to use it until now."
"Did he say anything to you?" Lori asked. "Did he tell you what happened?"
"Yeah," Lincoln said, nodding his head, "he told me that he was robbed by three people. Said they took everything from him, even his clothes. But I still don't understand why they also had to go so far as to beat him up like this so badly. My guess is that he must have said or did something to make them do this to him. Either that or they were just straight up sadistic jerks."
Lori turned her gaze over to the boy, who now laid on the couch with a blanket and pillow and an oxygen mask that was carefully adjusted over his mouth and nose. Lynn gave the two ice packs to Rita, and she gently placed one on the kid's black eye and the second one underneath the blanket, placing it easily between his legs and up against his still aching groin. The contact from the two freezing objects caused the boy to wince for just a second until he began eventually relax.
The eldest Loud sister frowned, beginning to feel a bit heartbroken. Poor thing. Nobody should ever have to go through that kind of nightmare. Especially if it was a young kid like this one. Her mind then began to wonder off and a terribly scary thought suddenly came to her. Just what would the scenario be like if it was the other way around? If Lincoln was the one lying on that couch, bruised and bleeding instead of this boy here?
What if it was her own little brother who was robbed and beaten within an inch of his life, abandoned and left all alone with nobody to help him? That mental image sent a shivering chill down her spine. That was a day she would not be looking forward to seeing in the future. She mentally prayed to the Good Lord Himself that it would not ever have to come to that.
"Where exactly did you find him at?" Lola questioned, rubbing her chin curiously. Lincoln squeezed his left arm and hesitated for a second.
"I-I may have found him over at 25th & Grover Street," he said, unsure of how to explain it better. Upon hearing those very words, all Lori, Lola, and Lana stared at him in shock, their mouths hung agape, their pupils shrinking into smaller dots. Even their parents were quite surprised after hearing it.
"Grover Street?" Lola muttered slowly, making sure that she had heard him right. "You found him in that part of town?" The only response the young and only Loud brother could give out was a simple nod of his white-haired head.
"What?!" Lori exclaimed nearly. "Lincoln, are you nuts?! The entire three blocks of that place make Detroit look like a safe vacation spot!"
"Yeah, sport!" Lynn Sr. added putting his hand on his son's shoulder. "Count yourself lucky that you weren't robbed yourself when you were patching him up!"
"But I couldn't just very well leave him there to die, could I?" Lincoln debated. "Besides, it just wouldn't be right! And... I honestly don't think I would be able to live with myself if I hadn't helped him, if I hadn't shown up when I did!"
"But why did you bring him over here, bro?" Luna asked suddenly, both her and Luan now joining in on the conversation.
"Yeah, why didn't you just take him to the hospital?" Luan added.
"The nearest hospital was more than five miles away from our location, Luan!" Lincoln explained. "There was no possible way we could have made it in time! Home was like the closest place I could think of!" Luna and Luan stared at him for a moment. The two of them were about to say more, until...
"You literally carried him all the way over here?" came a young girl's drearily monotonous voice suddenly. Lincoln yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin. When he turned around, he relaxed a bit when he saw that it was only their nine-year-old goth of a sister, Lucy.
"I was hiding in the air vents, if anyone was wondering," Lucy explained, before turning to her brother. "But again, you literally carried him all the way home?" Lincoln nodded his head.
"Okay," Lola said. "But why didn't you call an ambulance? Or maybe even the police?" Lincoln put his hands on his hips and shot his little pageant queen of a sister an annoyed look.
"Mom took my phone, remember?" he grunted.
"Ooohhh... right," Lola facepalmed, remembering that it had been taken away from her brother as part of his punishment.
"Did he say anything else to you?" Lori asked. Lincoln rubbed the back of his head.
"Well, you're not gonna believe this, but he told his name's Conner Pingrey." he explained. Seven of the Louds raised their eyebrows at the last part of their brother's words.
"Wait, Pingrey?" Leni said, confused for a moment. "As in like Carol Pingrey?"
"It would seem so, Leni" Lincoln said, nodding his head. They all turned their heads to the young boy who continued to lay down on the couch, oxygen mask and all.
"You don't suppose the two of them might actually be related, do ya?" Luan asked curiously.
As Lori looked on at the boy on the couch, she became deep in thought. She swore that she heard the name Conner before. Carol may have mentioned him a couple of times offhandedly in the past year or so, but Lori only vaguely remembered those times when she brought up any other of her relatives.
"Guess there's only one way to find out," Lana concluded, shrugging her shoulders. "Let's ask him."
"We will, Lana," Lori said. "But right now, I think it would be better if we focused more on trying to make him feel better."
"I may not be a professional in the field of medicine," said Lisa, the four-year-old scientist, cleaning her rounded glasses. "But I too shall do whatever I can to aid him in his recovery. At least until the real help shows up on our doorstep." After saying this, Lisa, including Lola, walked on over to the couch where he was being tended to by the rest of the Louds while Rita had just gotten on the phone with the hospital.
As Lisa examined Conner's swollen ankle, Lola furrowed her brows as she rubbed her chin deeply in thought. The more she eyed this kid, the more the little gears within her brain turned and creaked. She was starting to get the nagging feeling that she saw this kid from somewhere before. But where exactly?
"Hey, is it just me," she said, "or does this kid look really familiar?" Luna and Luan, who now just sat down on the low wooden coffee table, looked at her little sister with a raised eyebrow.
"What do you mean, sis?" the two sisters asked.
"I can't put my finger on it," the seven-year-old pageant queen said. "But it feels like we've seen him before?"
"Hmmm... Now that you mention it," said Lisa looking inquisitively at Conner, "he does seem to be giving me some strange recollections within the recesses of my cerebellum. But I cannot pinpoint exactly what they are." After staring intensely at the young boy for what had felt like an eternity, something clicked inside of Lola's brain, recognition finally coming to her.
"Hey, wait a minute!" she nearly exclaimed, before turning to her brother. "Lincoln, isn't this the same kid who tried to swipe your cereal back at the store?" Lincoln stared at his little sister with a confused eyebrow.
"What?" he asked.
"Wait a minute!" said Luan, remembering everything that had happened in that event. "You're right, Lola! This is the exact same kid who tried to steal Lincoln's cereal! Don't you remember, little bro?"
Lincoln pondered for a moment, as memories suddenly started to flood through his brain. He remembered going to the store to try and get a hold of the last box of Zombie Bran at the store, only for it to be swiped by some kid who was oddly enough dressed similarly as he was. But that was a year ago. There was just no actual way at all that this could possibly be the exact same kid... Could it?
"Are you guys sure it's him?" Lincoln asked. Lola placed both hands on her hips and shot her brother a look.
"Come have a look for yourself if you don't believe us." she ordered.
Lincoln walked over to the couch and examined the now resting Conner all the while Lisa tended to his sprained ankle, carefully rubbing some medicinal numbing solution onto the swollen area while wearing blue rubber gloves and then carefully wrapping some bandages over the foot. Upon a much closer examination, Lincoln's eyes widened, and a small gasp escaped his throat. Those same memories exact memories suddenly came through his brain again, flooding like a tidal wave.
"Oh my gosh," Lincoln said in a surprised mutter. "Lola, you're right." He could not believe it. It was him. It was most definitely him, the exact same kid he met at the store, the one who tried to steal his box of Zombie Bran cereal. Just how in the world did he not recognize him at first glance? But then, Lincoln remembered that the kid was wearing a white beanie at the time.
Maybe if he still had worn that, Lincoln might have remembered him the very minute he saw him in that alley. But the odd question was how did this kid not remember Lincoln? The twelve-year-old Loud boy had a very distinguished appearance that was not that hard to forget about, if you included his snow-white hair that is.
But then again, it was only a year ago. Lincoln had never once given the entire ordeal another thought since then. It was very funny how the hands of fate works things out. Lincoln folded his arms across his small chest and he shook his head with a small frown.
Well, I'll be a son of a gun, he mentally said to the now sleeping Conner. Never thought I'd see the day where I would come across you again, cereal-stealer.
"Oh, I hope the little guy will be okay," Leni muttered while watching Conner from behind the coach, feeling more than a little scared, and just less than a minute away from crying.
"I can't even think of a good joke right now to lighten the mood," Luan said, now standing next to her second oldest sister. Luckily, their mother placed a comforting hand on each of their shoulders.
"It's alright, sweethearts," Rita soothed. "I just got off the phone with the hospital. They're sending out an ambulance as we speak. So right now, let's try and make him feel comfortable as best we could until they arrive." This seemed to have calmed down the two girls, but only a little bit.
"As much as I enjoy subjects about death and darkness," Lucy said in her usual dreary tone. "This is all just too much, even for me."
"This is just surreal," Lynn pondered with a whisper, standing right next to Lincoln, with the rest of the family now watching Conner sleep. "I don't think I ever once knew that Carol had any other relatives other than her dad, let alone a little brother. And to think that it happens to be this kid, of all people. Er, no disrespect to them of course."
Lori then turned around and she reached into her left back pocket of her shorts and drew out her own cellphone. Lincoln and everybody else turned to her direction.
"What're you doing, Lori?" Lincoln asked curiously.
"I'm calling Carol's house number," the eldest Loud sibling said in a serious tone, after dialing in the number. "She and her family must be told about this immediately as possible." As she began to dial in the number, she stopped herself once after she caught maybe a whiff or two of a terrible smell that began to spread around the room. It smelled hot and singed. They all smelled it too.
"Is something burning?" Lola questioned, her little nose curling up. Upon hearing that, Lynn Sr.'s eyes widened in realization.
"Oh, crud! My gumbo!" he exclaimed as he ran back into the kitchen.
Yeesh. It's been quite a long while since I've written a long chapter like this one. But anyway, I am so glad that Conner's finally been rescued. And I look forward to writing down his recovery.
I can only imagine what the Pingrey's reactions when they hear about the news of what happened. Don't forget to send me your reviews and tell me your opinions. I look forward to hearing what you all think. Have a good day.